Tag Archives: science

My Fingernail is About to Fall Off

Hey 3.5 readers.

This is some serious shit.

Two months ago, I slammed my left middle finger in a door because…well, I blame everyone but me, as I do with all of my problems.  Some say it’s a sign of low moral character to blame others for your own mistakes but if you ask me, the people who say that are to blame for everything.

But I digress.

For two months, I’ve been walking around with a left middle fingernail that was blacker than the darkest night on the wrong side of the moon.

I figured this problem would heal itself, like a bruise that eventually goes away.

But it was more than that, blood trapped under the fingernail, you see.

And so, last week I noticed the nail was beginning the bulge, like it was expanding a bit.

This week, I notice it’s getting a bit crusty, and there’s a hole between the nail and the part where the skin meets the nail at the bottom.

And some crusty blood has come out around the edges.

So, I broke down and saw a doctor, which I hate to do, because frankly, I believe all doctors are secretly trying to declare me dead over the slightest malady in order to harvest my organs.

“What?  This man has a black fingernail?  Knock him on the head with a mallet and donate his penis to science immediately!”

Damn penis scientists always trying to research my penis.

Anyway, the doctor said the nail is going to fall off.  She said a new nail would grow in.  I’m a little nervous about that, but I will take this doctor’s word and hope and pray for the best.

In the meantime, I’m concerned for the fate of this fine blog.  Soon, I will have to bandage the finger, keep it sanitary, soak it in anti-bacterial ointments and use it sparingly.  That could affect my tying, so I worry about the future of this fine blog and also, Toilet Gator, which I am in the last stages of completing the second draft.

Further, I worry about my ability to scratch my butt…by that, I mean, my butthole.  Oh my God.  It gets so itchy up there.  Like, unbelievably itchy.  And I have to go spelunking up there and well, I won’t be able to use my left hand and honestly, the right hand is probably out because what if I use my right hand and then I touch my left hand?

Ugh.  If any of you want to volunteer to be a butt scratched for say, the next 4 months until a new nail grows in, I’d appreciate it.  It’s the least you could do since I do so much to entertain you, but that’s OK, I understand if you don’t want to help, you lousy ingrates.

Please pray for me, pray that my new nail will be hearty, strong, and impressive to the ladies and that there are no complications that lead me to being a nail-less freak or that cause me to declared dead so that my penis can be experimented on by mad penis scientists.

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BQB Does Kennedy Space Center

Alien Jones said it was primitive in comparison to his spaceship, but I was still impressed:

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Has Your Butt Been Probed By Aliens?

Your butt.  You must protect it from danger at all times.

Has your butt been probed by aliens from another world?

Only this BQB Top Ten List can help you know for sure.

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You Can’t Argue with Science – Launch of Elon Musk’s Falcon Heavy Rocket

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By: Dr. Hugo von Science, Esteemed Professor of Science at the Advanced Science Institute of Science University

Guten Tag, Herr 3.5 readers!  Dr. Hugo von Science here, mein liebchen, back after a long hiatus for as you recall, there was a teensy, weensy issue where I was accused of unleashing a zombie apocalypse on East Randomtown.  Boy oh boy, you unleash one little zombie horde and the legal system never lets you here the end of it.

Ahh, but wouldn’t you know, mein crooked lawyer worked some magic, reminded zie government that they do not want to publicly acknowledge that zombies exist and thus to punish yours truly would be an admission of zombie existence and voila, my tenure at Science University has been restored!

Alas, BQB didn’t want me to return but that’s OK.  I just pirated the signal of his blog, changed a few ones undt zeroes and here I am, guest blogging against your favorite nerd’s will anyway.

Herr 3.5 readers, have you seen zie footage of the Heavy Falcon rocket launch?  If you missed it because you were too busy picking your nose boogers, here’s the CNBC coverage of the launch:

Herr 3.5 readers, do you know this rocket is a) the most powerful rocket ever built b) the first of its kind to be launched by a commercial enterprise und c) is capable of reaching Mars?

By the way, if you ask Elon, he will totally deny this and I’m sure BQB’s lawyer will want me to say this isn’t true but between you and me, I was brought in to be an advisor on this project in the early stages.

Yes, Elon was all like, “this will be the biggest rocket ever!”

And I was all like, “Yes, that’s very nice but it must be bigger if we are going to blow up the sun.”

Then everyone was all like, “Why would we blow up the sun?” and I was like, “So we can buy a bunch of flashlights in advance and then make a killing when we sell them to the blacked out masses at insane prices, duh!”

Needless to say, Elon and the Space X folk weren’t down for blowing up the sun, nor were they into mein other ideas, namely – launching my patent pending laser death ray satellite, which could be used to a) hold the world for ransom with a threat to burn the entire planet lest all the world’s gold reserves be transferred to me and b) also used to heat the coffee of a random person from a zillion miles away with tremendous precision.

Can you believe they weren’t down for holding the earth ransom either?  They were all like, “Science and discovery and exploration and benefitting mankind.”  Blah, blah blah.  What a bunch of wet blankets.

Anyway, I kept bringing up more ideas.  We should put all my enemies on the rocket and then exile them to deep space.  We should send the rocket to every planet and broadcast a message asking for all planets to send us their hottest, greenest, finest, three tittied space babes.  All of these plans und more were nixed.

Finally, Elon showed me the door and I informed him the feeling was more than mutual.  I am, after all, a scientist with standards and if a rocket is not going to be used to hold the earth for ransom or at the very least to blow up a random planet and start an intergalactic war, then I want no part of it and I shall say good day.

Ultimately, I am glad Space X launched their rocket and I wish them well in their various science experiments.

Meanwhile, look for mein rocket launch next year as you’ll see it on the news as well as all other TV channels as I will pre-empt all stations with my ransom demands.

Did I say, “ransom demands?”  I meant, “science lessons.”  I have no idea how this terrible rumor that I’m a mad scientist got started.  I’ll have all 3.5 of you know that I am a very happy scientist – very happy indeed.

 

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Why do farts smell bad?

If you don’t eat something that smells like a fart, why do your farts smell like farts?

If you eat a pizza, why doesn’t your fart smell like pizza?

If you eat strawberry ice cream, why don’t your farts smell like strawberry ice cream?

I demand answers!

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Top Ten Ways You Can Become a Mad Scientist Just Like Dr. Hugo Von Science

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Hello 3.5 readers.  BQB here

Have you ever wondered how you can become a mad scientist, just like my former mentor/current frenemy, the illustrious Dr. Hugo Von Scientist?

Of course you have.  Therefore, from BQB HQ in Fabulous East Randomtown, it’s the Top Ten Ways You Can Become a Mad Scientist, Just Like Doctor Hugo Von Science:

#10 – Laugh Maniacally Over Everything…

…especially when the world gives you the slightest advantage.  Drive-thru gave you an extra large fry instead of the small you ordered at no additional cost?

That’s not just a win.  That’s a reason to laugh maniacally.  “Yes, with the energy these extra fried potatoes, I shall conquer the world!  Muah ha ha ha!”

#9 – Always Monologue

It’s not just enough to laugh maniacally.  You must also spell out the advantage you received that made you laugh in a maniacal manner.  See above where you explain why getting extra fries helps you.

#8 – Always Have a Plan for World Domination

Mad scientists often begin as regular scientists who feel their genius is unappreciated.  After years of study, they tend to receive years of neglect with no one giving them so much as a pat on the back for a job well done when it comes to their science-ing.  Thus, they become jaded and turn their science skills toward evil instead of good.

In fact, hug a scientist today.  You never know.  You might just stave of a plot for global domination by doing so.

#7 – Have a Lair

Could be your basement, an abandoned warehouse, any rusty old claptrap will do.

#6 – Have Many Bubbling Potions

It’s not really a good idea to leave poisonous chemicals lying around, but you should at least give the appearance to the world that you don’t give an F.  Maybe just fill up some beakers full of Mountain Dew and Diet Shasta Orange.

You know what?  Skip this part.  Don’t do it.  Don’t mess with chemicals or even pretend to.  My lawyer says I can’t afford that kind of hassle.

#5 – Be German

The best mad scientists are always German.  Stereotype?  Maybe.  Leftover fear of Nazi experiments gone awry?  Surely.  All I know is that if you are German or can fake a good German accent, you will move up to the very tip top of the mad scientist game.

Deny all you want but you’ve never heard of a famous mad scientist who sounded like he was from North Dakota, have you?  “Ohh yah, I’m gonna take over the world, don’t you know?”

Nope.  Never happens.

#4 – Have Crazy Hair

Dr. Hugo does not have crazy hair but you should.  The crazier the better.  Your hair should always look like it was destroyed by your latest experiment.

#3 – Have a Pet Sidekick

Really, a mad scientist is not complete without a chimpanzee nearby waiting to hand him all the instruments of destruction he needs.

#2 –  Never Be Seen Without Your Lab Coat On

Can you think of a good mad scientist who didn’t wear a white lab coat?

#1 – Do Crazy Science Shit

This goes without saying.  Obviously, for legal reasons, I can’t advise you to use science for the purposes of global domination but…you know, it’s pretty much what mad scientists do so…you know what?  Forget this.  Don’t break the law.  Don’t be a mad scientist.  Be a nice, sane scientist.  Use science to help people.  Don’t be like Dr. Hugo Von Science.  He sucks.

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Toilet Gator – Chapter 86

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The gang assembled in a study room at the Sitwell Community College library. Professor Elliot Lambert launched into an impromptu class on toilet dwelling animals.

“You see,” Professor Lambert said. “The average speed for an alligator is approximately ten miles per hour. However, the alligator we are dealing with is not average whatsoever. Given his length and muscle mass, I’m willing to wager our reptilian friend can move at speeds upwards of seventy miles per hour if he really pushes himself.”

“Hell,” Rusty said. “I’m surprised he didn’t get me then. I don’t run that fast.”

“An athletic human running at a vigorous pace can reach twenty miles per hour,” Professor Lambert said. “But tell me, was the alligator doing anything else while he was pursuing you?”

“He stopped to snap his jaws at us,” Rusty said. “And roar. He roared a lot.”

“Well there you go,” the professor said. “Multi-tasking slows this beastie down.”

The Professor drew a rough outline of the state of Florida on a whiteboard. “Remind me, Agent Walker. The first murder where Countess Cucamonga took her final curtain call, so to speak, that happened at what time?”

“Witnesses put it a little after 9 p.m.,” Sharon replied.

Professor Lambert put a dot right around where Miami would be. “And the death of Herbert Hogan?”

“Around 10 p.m.,” Sharon said.

The Professor put a dot on Boca Raton. “And when did Mr. Becker leave us so soon?”

“After 11 p.m.,” Sharon said.

The Professor connected the dots. “All and all, a one hundred and thirty mile trek, completed in three hours.”

“Doesn’t sound so impossible,” Rusty said.

“Not if you have a lead foot,” Sharon said. “And if you’re lucky enough to not encounter any traffic, which never happens in the greater Miami area on a Friday night.”

“And if you don’t have to stop at three separate locations, sneak through security, murder three separate people and then leave undetected,” Cole added.

“A human never could have done this,” Sharon said. “We’ve had our heads up our asses the entire time.”

Professor Lambert said. “Do not be too hard on yourself, Agent Walker. When it comes to the unknown dangers of the animal world, humans have had their heads up their asses for quite some time now.”

“Gordon had theorized that a cult might have been at work,” Sharon said. “Multiple people committing murders in different locations within the same timeframe.”

Rusty stared dreamily off into space. “So much wisdom behind that man’s kind eyes.”

“What?” Rusty asked.

“Nothing,” Rusty answered.

“My new friends,” Professor Lambert said. “I know this comes as quite a surprise, but I have literally spent my entire life studying the impact of aquatic animals who commit toilet murder.”

“That doesn’t surprise me at all,” Rusty said.

“You actually kind of look like the type of guy who would be obsessed with toilet animals,” Cole said. “No offense.”

“I stopped taking offense years ago,” Professor Lambert said. “When I realized my research was too important for the future of the human race to ignore. Sure, I could have gotten into a more reasonable line of work but you know what? They scoffed at Columbus until he proved the world was round and I have resigned myself to the sad fact that people will make light of my labors until they realize the cold, hard truth that when they sit their butts down on toilets…their butts are not alone.”

“That video should give you all the vindication you need,” Rusty said. “Say, why didn’t you tell me about all this the day we met?”

“Would you have believed me then?” Professor Lambert asked.

“Nope,” Rusty said. “And no one believed me until the video.”

“Such is the life of a believer in toilet animal related phenomenon,” Professor Lambert said. “Humans are so close-minded that they rarely believe anything that they can’t see with their very eyes. And don’t think for a second that murderous toilet animals don’t take advantage of this lack of faith.”

Maude lit up a smoke.

“Oh, there’s no smoking in here,” Professor Lambert said.

Maude blew smoke in the Professor’s general direction. “And yet, here I am.”

“Well,” the Professor said as he pulled a joint out of his pocket. “If it’s that kind of party.”

The scholar lit up, then caught a glance of Cole’s disapproving eyes. He grew frightened, like he’d just made a big mistake.

“It’s fine,” Cole said. “I’ve been fired.”

The Professor turned to Rusty.

“I quit the force.”

Finally, the Professor turned to Sharon.

“I have bigger problems.”

Convinced no one was about to arrest him, the Professor noted to the group that his habit was strictly medicinal, then took a question from Maude – “How does someone start studying toilet animals? You go bananas or something?”

“A fine question,” Professor Lambert said. “When I was a young boy, my parents were missionaries in South America, working to bring the first sewer system to a very impoverished region. When the project was completed, I was given the honor of taking the first shit.”

“Academy eat your heart out,” Maude said.

“All was going well until I felt the slightest pinch on my bottom…”

“Catholic priest?” Rusty asked.

“A sandwich restaurant chain representative?” Maude added.

“Neither,” Professor Lambert said. “I jumped off the bowl to find a rather menacing looking snake had crawled up through the pipe and attached itself to my bottom. I passed out immediately, as the snake’s venom was highly poisonous. Luckily, a brave fellow sucked all of the poison out of my backside in time.”

“Catholic priest?” Rusty asked.

“A sandwich restaurant chain representative?” Maude added.

“Guys,” Sharon said sternly. “This isn’t a joking matter.”

“Agreed,” Cole said.

Maude threw up her hands. “Well excuse me all over the place!”

The old lady looked at the Professor. “Don’t they teach people how to puff, puff pass at this school?”

The Professor nodded and handed his joint to Maude. She stubbed her cigarette out on the old oak table, completely uncaring about the likelihood that some poor janitor would be called upon to buff out the mark. She then proceeded to suckle the doobie and suckle it good.

“Does she know that smoking isn’t good for a person on oxygen?” Sharon asked Cole.

“She doesn’t give a shit,” Cole said.

“I do not,” Maude said. “And I’m right here.”

“Anyway,” the Professor said. “At that moment, I realized how vulnerable humans are while they sitting on the toilet. Humans have come to assume that their bathroom time is one of the safest times of day. They’re in an enclosed space, they think they are all by themselves but oh no, at any given time, there may be hundreds if not thousands of sewer dwelling animals in their general vicinity, any one of which might crawl up and give an unsuspecting human a nasty surprise indeed.”

“But Professor,” Sharon said. “This is where I’m stuck. How does a great big alligator squeeze its way up through the small pipe that connects a toilet to a sewer?”

“Bone displacement,” the Professor said.

“Excuse me?” Sharon asked.

“Take the average bat,” Professor Lambert said. “It can literally dislocate its bones and smush its body together until it can fit through the tiniest crack in a homeowner’s abode.”

Moses piped up for the first time in this meeting. “That happened to me when I was a young boy once. I’d like to tell you that I reacted bravely but in fact, I hid under my bed until my father caught it and threw it out the front door. For the rest of my childhood, I was convinced he might have contracted vampirism and frankly, I’m still not entirely convinced he didn’t.”

“Your father died five years ago,” Cole said.

“Did he?” Cole asked. “Or did the CIA…”

Cole threw made a stop motion and pointed it at Moses before turning to Professor Lambert. “Continue.”

“Like humans, not every animal within a given species is the same,” Professor Lambert said. “Most fear pain. Most fear death. But some, they are willing to overlook these negative outcomes in order to push their bodies to the limit if it will get them closer to something they desire. Dislocating your bones to the point where you are able to squeeze yourself up a pipe like some kind of backed up ooze has got to be incredibly painful, but they’re willing to do it if will lead them closer to a butt sitting on a toilet they wish to consume.”

“Do all animals have the power to displace their bones?” Sharon asked.

“Not as such, no,” the Professor said. “At this time, I estimate that a small minority of animals have this ability. However, according to Darwinian Theory, these animals may continue to procreate until they dominate the Earth.”

Rusty shuddered. “A world full of killer toilet animals.”

Maude laughed as she puffed on her ganja. “Bullshit! This is so farfetched that if I ever read it in a self-published e-book, I’d give it a one star review and a pithy, passive-aggressive comment.”

“You shouldn’t do things like that, Madame,” Professor Lambert said. “Self-published e-book writers are the backbone of today’s book industry and they should be treated as such. I’m sorry to digress, but I spent so many time self-publishing my toilet animal studies that I feel the pain of any self-published e-book writer.”

“I’d demand my money back too,” Maude said. “Bone displacing toilet animals. Bitch, please!”

Rusty held out his hand. “Yo, Maude! What happened to puff, puff, pass?”

Maude flipped Rusty the bird. “Get your own supply, Narc!”

“Can we steer this conversation back on topic?” Cole asked.

“Yes,” Professor Lambert said. “Many individual animals will often display traits that help them stand out above and beyond their peers. Mr. Yates, you, for example, told me earlier that it seemed as though the alligator in question was communicating with this Buford fellow, that two were locked in a squabble.”

“Sounded that way to me,” Rusty said.

“Sometimes animals will stand out above their peers when it comes to intelligence,” Professor Lambert. “When these animals breed, they added smarter versions of themselves to their species gene pool. The collective IQ of a species grows smarter as a result.”

“Until the entire world is run by damn dirty gators?” Rusty asked.

“It’s not an impossibility,” the Professor said.

“Shit,” Rusty said. “I don’t want to be a slave in a world run by damn dirty gators.”

“Meh,” Maude said. “I still smell bullshit.”

Rusty waved the air away from his face. “I think that’s the dank bud.”

“It’s Mississippi Mud Bud, actually,” Professor Lambert said. “And Madame, I assure you, this is not bullshit. My many years of research have taken me all over the world, where I have encountered toilet piranha, toilet walruses, toilet dolphins…”

“Yeah, yeah, I remember your rant,” Maude said. “Toilet sharks, toilet whales…”

“A toilet whale?!” Sharon asked.

“A killer toilet whale,” Professor Lambert said. “In India. I believe that was the case though I never proved it. I have, however, documented the activities of many toilet animals the world over. My self-published studies are filled with photos of toilet animals engaging in toilet related activities. And, I’m proud to say, they’re often rated with a gentleman’s three star review.”

Maude jerked her hand up and down, pretending to jerk off rather than listen to the professor.

“You scoff, Madame,” the Professor said. “But I’ll have you know that alligators are the masters of toilet murder. They, above all other aquatic creatures, have utilized sewer systems all over the world to take down their enemies though I must admit, I have never encountered a toilet gator as intelligent, organized and vindictive as the one you are all describing.”

“Professor,” Sharon said. “You’ve explained how a toilet gator can sneak through a pipe, but how does it become big again so that it can…”

“Eat the victim?” the Professor asked. “Simple. It reconstitutes itself within the small space, grows too large for its surroundings and bursts out of it, just in time to catch the unsuspecting toilet user in its jaws. A pity really. The toilet user never truly grasps what is going on until it’s too late.”

“Then it shrinks and escapes down the pipe, the same way it came?” Cole asked.

“Precisely,” Professor Lambert said.

“Leaving police none the wiser,” Cole said.

“I can tell you I have spoken with authorities all over the world who were left baffled by this phenomenon,” the Professor said. “Many as skeptical as Miss Fuller here, if not more so.”

“You got any more of this?” Maude asked as she held up the joint.

“Not for free,” Professor Lambert said.

“Bah,” Maude said. “Lousy cheapskate.”

“This is literally the perfect crime,” Sharon said.

“Indeed,” Professor Lambert said.

“Professor,” Sharon said. “I have to say, the way the academic world has treated you is a shame. I mean, here you are, conducting pioneering research in an incomprehensible yet apparently very real field and yet here you are, stuck lecturing at a community college when you should be teaching at Princeton or Yale or…”
“Oh,” Professor Lambert said with a chuckle. “You think I was tossed to the bottom of academia for researching toilet animals?”

“You weren’t?” Sharon asked.

“Of course not,” Professor Lambert said. “All of my research into the world of toilet animals was sponsored by several big name universities. Institutions of higher learning are often willing to jack up tuitions in order to fund all sorts of silly, navel gazing research. Why, I have a colleague who was given full funding to study the mating habits of East Peruvian tree mold spores.”

“Tree mold spores have mating habits?” Rusty asked.

“My good man,” Professor Lambert said. “Put a few tree mold spores under a microscope, dim the lights, play a little 1970s disco music and you’ll swear you’re staring at a scene straight of Studio 64.”

“Sorry I asked,” Rusty said.

“They why are you teaching here of all places?” Sharon asked.

“Justin Bieber,” Professor Lambert said.

“Justin Bieber?” Sharon asked.

“Indeed,” Professor Lambert said. “I am a big Belieber. I know, it’s odd, a man of my intellect and age, to be a fan of such a frivolous young man but what can I say? The lad can carry a beat.”

“He sure can,” Rusty said before he caught himself. “So I’ve heard.”

“In the early days of Lifebox, I wrote a post about how I quite enjoyed Justin’s Beauty and a Beat video,” Professor Lambert said. “The elegance, the choreography, the pageantry, all made to look like it was spontaneous footage of a pool party. Oh how I loved it and watched it over and over. Alas, I didn’t quite understand the far reach and permanent nature of social media at the time and became an instant laughing stock. Only this and one other college would have me after that.”

“Which one?” Sharon asked.

“Arizona State,” Professor Lambert said.

Sharon shuddered. “Yeesh. You picked right.”

The door to the study room swung open. Natalie Brock and Walter walked into the room. “Professor Lambert, they said at the front desk that I could…”

Natalie looked around the room. “Oh, hello everyone.”

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Daily Discussion with BQB – The Government Doesn’t Have a Space Alien in Captivity

Hey 3.5 readers.

So this post isn’t meant to be a referendum on Trump.  Complain about politics on your own time.

This is a post about aliens, or more specifically, whether or not that US government has one in captivity.

I always figured that if the government does have an alien, they’d probably show it to the president right away.  A new presidents first days are, I can only assume, filled with all sorts of lackies, henchmen, bureaucrats, operatives etc. coming up the the president and being all like, “OK sir, there are few people in the world who know this and we are now going to tell you and it is going to blow your mind.”

So anyway, if we do have an alien, I don’t think Trump would be able to hold back on that one.  He’d totally get on Twitter and be all like, “Just met Meepzorp and boy is that guy’s head yuge!  He’s a really classy extraterrestrial, let me tell you.  All of my intergalactic beings are fantastic.  Hillary didn’t even get to meet Meepzorp.  #sad.”

That’s my theory and I’m sticking to it.  As a nerd, I never knew if we had an alien or not, but if we did, it would not surprise me, but now I don’t think we do because Trump would have posted a photo of himself with the alien by now.

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Red Hot Knife vs. Stuff

Hey 3.5 readers.

Came across this video that captivated me.

So this Youtuber, Mr. Gear, took a knife, blasted it with three blowtorches until it became red hot, then used it to cut through stuff.

He cuts through a bar of soap, a block of cheese, a ping pong ball, a bottle of Coke and more.

I’m a little surprised the Post-It Notes seemed to give him the most trouble.  They burned easily but they didn’t cut easily.

As for the Coke, I’m surprised the bottle didn’t explode and cover him with red hot sugary Coca-Cola napalm.

Anyway, please, please, please don’t try this at home. I’m serious.  Don’t try this at home. I guarantee you will injure yourself or others.  Do not try any of this at home.

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